


Cloud Nine

by TheUnvanquishedZims



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Painkillers, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnvanquishedZims/pseuds/TheUnvanquishedZims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexei has no idea why a member of a rival NHL team is in his hospital room, but he's not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cloud Nine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warptimeandspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warptimeandspace/gifts).



> For the Fourth of July Birthday Bash, requested by chocolatechipsformorale. Hope you like it!

Alexei felt…puffy. There were probably better ways to describe it, but everything inside his head was fuzzy at the moment, and he had yet to pay attention to anything outside his head. He was more preoccupied with coming up with a word to describe what he was feeling right now, the soap-bubble floatiness and the way everything felt soft and fluffy. Except the back of his head under his left ear, that part felt tight and swollen, overwarm and more than a little achey. It didn’t really hurt though, so he ignored it and went back to the loose floating feeling the rest of him had. Soft and floating and loose, and maybe a little like everything inside was too big, like his head was stuffed full of cotton and about to puff up and float away.

“How do you feel?” the outside world asked.

“…I am a cloud,” he finally decided, smiling and laughing a little bit at the idea.

The world laughed with him. “Oh my god, how many painkillers do they even have you on?”

“Hmm?” The mention of painkillers brought Alexei back from his floating a little, and after blinking a few times he was able to focus on the world around him. It was a nice white room, with curtains around the white bed he was laying on. The hum of machinery was all around him and echoing through the walls. The room was dim, but the light that spilled in from the hall was almost overpoweringly bright. His face scrunched against it, but turning his head away made the warm achey part of his head get hot.

“Mrrn, door,” he gritted out in English, or so he hoped.

“Don’t move your head,” admonished the part of the world that could talk, briefly resolving into the silhouette of a man against the hallway lights as he closed the door. Alexei focused on blinking and breathing through his mouth, relieved at the increased darkness but simultaneously alarmed at the sudden unavailability of his nose.

“Where is my nose,” he muttered.

“Clouds don’t have noses,” snickered the man. He was blonde, and had the worst case of hat hair Alexei had ever seen, rumpled strands sticking up all over his head with a single proud cowlick standing straight up from his forehead.

The cowlick was what sparked a memory, and Alexei suddenly had a few revelations: 1) he was a hockey player, 2) he was in America, 3) he was in an American hospital, probably as a result of playing hockey, and 4) Kent Parson was standing next to his bed laughing at him.

The last revelation felt the most bizarre. He played against Parson’s team, there was no reason for him to see Parson off the ice, especially when he was injured. What was an NHL superstar doing in Alexei’s room at the hospital? And why was he laughing at Alexei’s missing nose?!

“Did you take my nose?” The question came out less accusing and more distraught than intended.

Parson laughed harder, because he was an asshole.

“Give—мудак—give it back!” Alexei’s hand felt disconnected but he still managed to flop it in Parson’s direction and wiggle his fingers in a grabbing motion. Parson was still laughing as he grabbed Alexei’s hand, but the smile on his face was more soft than mocking.

“Hey, hey, calm down, look.” He held up a finger and slowly brought it closer.

Alexei’s eyes crossed as it finally touched down, as light as a butterfly, on the tip of Alexei’s nose, right in the middle of his face. Alexei didn’t know how he could have missed it, now that he was aware of its presence it seemed huge. His vision was filled with glinting metal and white bandages before his eyes hurt from crossing, headache as numb as the rest of his head. The pleasant floating sensations had dissipated by now, and he yearned for a retreat back into the cloud-world he had been a part of, but Parson’s presence forced him to at least try to focus.

He wasn’t wearing his hat. Alexei didn’t know why that was significant, but it felt important. Nearly as important as the fact that Parson was still holding Alexei’s hand, standing over him and smiling while his thumb rubbed slow circles over Alexei’s palm. It felt weirdly intimate, the smooth slide of skin on skin, and Alexei got lost in the sensation for a while, watching Parson smile and feeling his hand tingle wherever Parson’s met his.

“Is this dreaming?” he managed to slur after an indeterminate time. His eyes were drooping a little as the pleasant fog rolled back over his mind, but he didn’t want to go to sleep now with so many questions unanswered.

“Maybe. Is it a good dream?”

“Mm. Good dream. But… is dream?”

Parson chuckled again. “Nope, it’s real.”

“Real?”

“Really real.”

“Oh.” Alexei almost gave up at that point. Behind his ear was aching now, and sleep was hovering near, promising a reprieve from the pain. But…

“Why are… why hands? We. Hands.”

“Sorry, I know we shouldn’t, but I was worried about you.” Parson mercifully stopped rubbing the soothing, maddening circles and instead squeezed Alexei’s hand. “Besides, you’ve got a private room for now, so why not take advantage of it? Doctor-patient confidentiality and all.”

Alexei gave up entirely at the seven syllable word. If a gorgeous man wanted to hold hands with him, that was fine. Wonderful, even! He would just lay here and enjoy the experience. Even if he had no idea what Parson was getting out of it. If he had gotten hit hard enough to land him in the hospital with bandages all over his nose, the rest of his face couldn’t be looking too good right now. Not anywhere near as good as Parson’s. How did he keep his face looking so good after years of playing hockey?

“Why is your face?”

“I have no clue how to answer that.”

“Mrn. Your face… is… so good. So so good.”

And oh, the blush and scrunched-up nose made it even better.

“So so pretty.”

“Go to sleep, Alyoshenka.”

The unexpected endearment made him smile as wide as he could with half his face unavailable, the pain of movement barely registering in the face of the gentle kiss Parson pressed to his forehead. He was dead, he was dreaming, he didn’t care. He floated back into sleepy cloudland on a wave of bliss and painkillers, Parson’s hand still holding his.


End file.
